


I Wanna Go

by melissaeverdeen13



Category: Grey's Anatomy
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-10
Updated: 2017-10-10
Packaged: 2019-01-15 18:20:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12326346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melissaeverdeen13/pseuds/melissaeverdeen13
Summary: After nearly starting a fight at their son's Little League game, April and Jackson reminisce over the fight that started everything.





	I Wanna Go

I promised I wouldn’t be late today, but I look at the clock radio as I’m driving and see that Lincoln’s Little League game started ten minutes ago, and I’m the worst dad ever. 

I pull up into the parking lot, lock my luxury SUV, and head to the bleachers where I can see the back of a familiar red-haired head. April is standing while everyone else sits, clapping and cheering loudly with the baby on her hip. I can hear her from a pretty good distance away, which makes me laugh to myself. 

Walking up behind the bleachers, April’s voice only gets louder. 

“Go Wildcats!” she shouts, hands cupped around her mouth. “You got this!” 

I touch the small of her back and she jumps. “Hey, wildcat,” I say, and she turns around.

Her face lights up with recognition, then falls. “You’re late,” she says, adjusting our 9-month-old daughter, Mackenzie.

“I know,” I say, getting situated next to her on the hard metal seat. “And I’m sorry. But I had so much paperwork to-”

“No,” she says. “I don’t wanna hear it today. You promised Linc that you’d be here when we got here. He was looking for you, Jackson. He cried. He didn’t even wanna play because he said he wanted you here.”

I snake an arm around her lower back and kiss the top of Mackenzie’s fluffy hair. “What inning are we on? I’m like, fifteen minutes late. It can’t be that far into the game.”

“Honey, that’s not the point,” she says, craning her neck to look for our son. “You said you’d be here, and you weren’t.” 

“I’m here now,” I insist. “That’s what matters.” 

She sighs, looking back to me. “A ‘sorry’ would be nice.” 

“I’m-"

“Not to me,” she says. “I know you’re sorry.” She tips her head to our little guy sitting in the dugout, elbows on his knees as he kicks dust. “I know someone who really wants to see his daddy.” 

I nod. “You’re right.” 

I stand up and brush myself off, heading towards the dugout. There’s no fence separating it because it’s a kids’ game, so I go right up behind my son and tap him on the shoulder.

He flips around. “Daddy!” he exclaims, throwing his arms around my neck. 

“Hey, buddy,” I say, lifting his feet off the ground. “Hey. How’s the game goin’?” 

I set him down and kneel so we can talk eye-to-eye. His are a color between mine and his mother’s - sea green, framed by long eyelashes that he got from April. He’s 6, and just lost his two front teeth, which has created a temporary lisp. 

“It’s okay,” he says, shrugging. 

“I’m sorry I was late,” I say, then lift my hands palms-up. “No excuses. Just sorry. I’ll try not to let it happen again.” 

“I know you were at work, daddy,” he says. “It’s okay.” 

“Well, I heard you were sad,” I say. “You okay now?” 

He looks towards the dugout and his team. “Yeah.” 

“You sure?” I ask. 

He shrugs again. “Coach didn’t put me in yet,” he says. 

“No?” I say. “Not yet?” He shakes his head. “Well, it’s just the beginning. Give it a little time. They don’t wanna put their star player in right away, you’d use up all your energy.” I touch his chin and we lock eyes. “They wanna save the best for last.” 

A ghost of a smile appears on his lips and grows as the seconds pass. “Yeah,” he says. “Best for last.” 

“That’s right,” I say, then hold out my fist for a fist bump, and he knocks it with his tiny one. “I’m gonna go sit down with your mom and sister. But I’ll be cheering for you, okay?”

He nods and heads to the dugout, and I make my way back to April and Mackenzie. 

“How is he?” April asks, bouncing the baby on her knee who’s happily chewing on her fist and making nonsense sounds. 

“He’s good,” I say. 

“Did he seem happy?”

“He seemed good,” I say, with a smile. “Honey, you gotta stop worrying about him.” 

She narrows her eyes and sighs. “I’ll stop worrying when he’s a big, gross teenager. But for now, he’s my little boy. I can worry as much as I want.” 

I wrap my arm around her shoulders and kiss the side of her head. “Who are you kidding,” I say. “You’ll still worry when he’s a teenager.” 

She scoffs and rolls her eyes because she knows I’m right. 

“He wants to play,” I say. “Said the coach hasn’t put him in yet. I told him they’re saving the best for last.” 

She smiles at me, eyes softening. “I’m sure he liked that.” 

“He did,” I say, then lift the baby by her armpits to set her on my lap. “Hey, Kenzie-bug,” I say. “How’s my munchkin, huh? When are you gonna start playing baseball like your brother?” 

“No, no,” April says. “She’ll do something else, like gymnastics or soccer.”

“What’s wrong with baseball?” I ask, then look at the baby. “Is your mama being sexist right now?” I look at my wife and pretend to scold her. “Girls can do anything boys can do.” 

She nudges me with her shoulder. “I know that, shut up,” she says. “I just can’t handle two baseball teams. This one stresses me out enough as it is. Both kids in baseball? No way. I’ll go crazy.” 

I whisper in Mackenzie’s ear while still looking at April. “She says, as if she isn’t already there.” 

“You’re lucky you have a baby in your arms,” April says. “Or else you’d be in trouble right now.” 

I laugh and get comfortable, waiting for our son to make it to the diamond. Inning after inning passes; I get uncomfortable on the bleachers, April gets fidgety, and Mackenzie eats enough snacks to feed an army. 

After the 5th inning passes, April hands me the baby who she’d taken earlier. “They’re not putting him in,” she says, wringing her hands. “There’s only one inning left. This is freakin’ Little League. Why are they not playing our kid?” 

“I don’t know,” I say. “Should we-”

“I’m saying something,” she says, determined. She walks to the edge of the bleachers and hops down, and I look at Mackenzie with a sigh.

“Think we should follow her?” I ask, then look at April who’s angrily making her way to the dugout where the coach and benched players are sitting. I sigh again. “Yep. We should follow her.”

I catch up to my wife, who’s already talking. “Excuse me,” she says, arms crossed over her chest. She tosses her red hair out of her face and straightens her shoulders. The coach looks her way, then stands up.

“How can I help you?” he asks. 

I hang back with the baby. April doesn’t like being crowded, and she doesn’t like feeling chaperoned, either. So, I let her handle it while still listening in. 

“You haven’t played my son,” she says, nodding towards Lincoln who has his eyes on her. They’re wide with curiosity and worry. I know the feeling. Ever since having both of our kids, April’s protective maternal instincts have escalated through the roof. No one does her kids wrong without hearing about it. 

“Mrs. Avery-” 

“Kepner,” she emphasizes. “ _ Kepner _ -Avery. And this is Little League, Coach Banks. Aren’t you supposed to be teaching the boys about fairness and sportsmanship? What kind of lesson are you teaching them by singling out certain players and keeping others benched the entire game?” 

The coach stands up and I hitch Mackenzie higher, feeling defensive. He towers over April, but she doesn’t falter, doesn’t cower. She never does.

Coach Banks speaks in low tones when he says, “Lincoln just doesn’t have the chops. And he doesn’t want to play.” 

“He  _ does _ want to play!” she says, voice growing higher and more insistent. “He just told my husband, at the beginning of the game.” She gestures to me, and Coach Banks nods in my direction. “He wants you to put him in. He wants to be included.” 

“Lady, leave the coach alone,” another voice pipes up. April’s head snaps to the sound to find that it’s coming from a parent standing behind the dugout. “Your kid can’t play. Easy as that, find him a different sport. He’s never come close to hitting the ball, not once. Get it through your head, baseball’s not for him.” 

There’s a beat where time moves in slow motion. But then April stomps over to this guy and says, “Are you talking about my son?” 

“Well, yeah, I mean he’s-”

“Because if you had any brain in that empty head of yours, you’d know that you should never talk about someone’s child like that,” she growls. “That is my son. Who are you, thinking you can say things like that about him? That’s my son!”

“April-” I try, but my voice gets buried.

“Back off, lady,” the guy says. “I’m just trying to help you.” 

“Help me?” she says, growing shrill and stepping closer to him. “I don’t need your ‘help’ and neither does Lincoln.”  

The guy widens his eyes and mutters, “Bitch.”

April had begun to walk away, but upon hearing that she flips back around and gets in his face. “And?” she says. “So, I’m a bitch. What’s so wrong with defending my kid?”

“Dude,” the guy says, pulling his head away from April and looking at me. “Are you gonna reign her in, or what?” 

“I’ll reign you in!” April says, and pulls back an arm for a punch. I luckily get there before she can follow through, yanking her arm back. 

“April,” I say, voice serious and firm. “You don’t wanna do this. Lincoln!” I shout, and our son who was watching through the fence flits his attention to me. “Come on. We’re leaving.” 

The four of us walk to the car in silence, getting in mine since April and Lincoln carpooled with another family this morning. I buckle Mackenzie in her car seat and Lincoln gets situated next to her, then we all sit in silence once April and I get in. 

“I’m sorry,” she says. “But no one’s gonna talk about him like that.”

“You can’t beat the shit out of anyone who wrongs him,” I say. 

“Daddy, you said-” 

“I know,” I say. “Not now, Linc. I’m talking to Mommy.” I turn towards April. “You can’t do that. We can’t come back to this team now.”

“So, we’ll find a different team,” she says. 

“Are you gonna threaten them, too, when they aren’t fair to him?” 

“Jackson,” she says. “I’m not sorry for standing up for our son.” 

“I didn’t say you should be,” I mutter, starting the car and putting it in reverse. “But you can’t handle things like that. You can’t start fights with coaches and other parents, people will think you’re crazy.” 

“I just want what’s best for him,” she says. “He wasn’t being treated right. You know that.” 

“I know,” I say. “I’m not saying you were wrong, in theory. But the way you handled it…”

She lets her head fall back to hit the headrest. “I know,” she says. “I just get so angry, and I let it take control of me.” She turns her head and meets my eyes. “I’m sorry.” 

Later that night, we’re tucking Lincoln and sitting on either side of his bed. April has sleepy Mackenzie on her lap, and both kids are fresh from their baths. 

“I’m sorry about how I acted earlier, Linc,” April says, leaning over and holding our son’s head as she kisses him. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I shouldn’t have gotten so loud and mean.” 

“It’s okay,” he says. “It wasn’t embarrassing. You were gonna fight, mommy!” 

She shoots me a guilty look and I shake my head. “Well, Mommy’s gonna try not to fight anyone,” I say. “The first time was the last time.” 

“Was this the first time?” Lincoln asks. 

April chuckles. “Um… no,” she says.

“Can I hear the story?”

We exchange glances again, then both give in. “It was before your dad and I were going to take a really big test. A test that would make us qualified doctors. We were young, we weren’t even together yet. But we were best friends,” April says. “And there was this guy who was saying really mean things about me. And I was tired of hearing it. So-” 

“So, while we were both sitting at the bar eating,” I cut in. “This guy came up behind us and started saying those same mean things to Mom. And you know what she did?” 

Lincoln shakes his head, enraptured with shiny eyes. 

“She turned around and she punched him,” I say. “Right on the nose.” 

“It hurt my hand,” she says. “I didn’t know I was gonna do it ‘til I did it. It surprised me just as much as it surprised him.” 

“Then, everyone wanted to start a fight. I had to hold your crazy mom back while she was screaming, ‘I wanna go!’ at this guy.”

Lincoln laughs, tucking his chin to his chest in the way April always does. “I wanna go!” he mimics. 

“Exactly,” April says, elbowing me. “But your dad held me back, he didn’t let me get into any more trouble.” 

“The next day, did you pass your test?” Lincoln asks.

“Um…” April says, eyes glinting as we smile at each other. “I didn’t, actually. I had to try again later. But your smart dad did.” 

“Smart daddy,” Lincoln says, and sits up to give me a big hug. 

“Night, Linc,” April says, giving him a long kiss on the forehead.

“Mommy,” Lincoln says. “If it’s okay, I’m not gonna fight anyone like you.” 

She giggles, kissing him again. “That’s perfectly okay, baby,” she says, standing up and positioning the baby higher on her hip. 

“Night, bud,” I say, kissing the top of his head. “See you in the morning.” 

“Daddy?” Lincoln calls, just as we’re about to walk out of his door. 

“Yeah?” 

“You can let Mommy fight the bad guys,” he says. “You know, like a superhero. She can beat up bad guys, okay? Not regular people, but it’s okay for her to beat up bad guys if she wants to.” 

I laugh and flick his light off. “Alright,” I say. “I’ll tell her.” 

After the baby’s asleep, April sits on our bed with a book while I change into pajamas. Once I’m done, I get in on my side and roll to hers, pushing her book down and earning myself a raised-eyebrow look over her cute reading glasses.

“You know, seeing you like that today…” I trail off. “Was kinda hot.”

She folds down the corner of her page and takes the glasses off, setting both on the nightstand. “Oh, really?” she says, and I hover over her with my hands planted on either side of her waist. I kiss her neck and she says, “You didn’t seem to think so earlier.”

“Changed my mind after I remembered what happened after the first time you tried to fight someone,” I say. 

“What happened then?” she asks, feigning innocence. 

“As if you could forget,” I say. “I still remember how you sounded screaming my name.  _ Oh, Jackson! Jackson, right there _ !” 

She smacks my shoulder. “Shut up,” she says, through gritted teeth. “You were basically waiting for me to jump you so you’d have an excuse to touch me.” 

“I want an excuse to touch you right now,” I say.

“You don’t need one,” she says. “I’m your wife. Which means I can fight anyone I want, and we can have sex whenever we want.” 

Breaking the calm vibe, Mackenzie’s loud cry splits through the house and forces me to collapse dejectedly with my forehead on April’s chest. “Now, Kenzie?” I groan. “Seriously, right now?” 

April giggles and pushes me away. “Maybe not  _ whenever _ we want,” she says. “Someone wasn’t finished eating, I guess. I’ll be back.” 

She rolls out of bed and I sigh, flopping onto my back. April might be the one that usually starts the fights, but at the moment I have the urge to square up with my nine-month-old daughter. 

With my eyes closed, April pads back into the bedroom and pounces on the bed, running her hands up my legs. “I’m back,” she whispers. “You wanna go?” 


End file.
